


Happy Fucking Birthday

by jillyfae



Series: Incorrigible [7]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Colonist (Mass Effect), Epistolary, Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Space Marines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:42:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fourteen years.</p><p>Not quite that many birthdays.</p><p>Only Shepard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Fucking Birthday

_omni-tool // F:backup // Ella Shepard // 63028-5487-99 // personal/documents/reference/astrogation // search: 11 April // tagged: HFB // limit: private // sort: oldest first_

> 11 April 2172

Hi Mama

Happy Birthday to me, huh?  I’m 18 now.  All adult-like, in theory.  Not that today’s any different than any other in here, but.  Still. 

18. 

Papa would’ve woken me up with some obscure song no one else had ever heard of, that he looked up just for the occasion, and Robert would’ve pretended to make fun of it, but there’d’ve been a present from him at the table to go with breakfast.  And we would’ve made me a cake, right?  To go with the family dinner with Uncle Romain and Aunt Lucy and the twins and Elliot?  I’d’ve asked for strawberry and chocolate.  With whipped cream instead of frosting. 

Damn. 

I can imagine that so clearly I can almost smell it.  Cinnamon or hazelnut in the chocolate, you think?  Or french vanilla?  Or maybe just plain dark chocolate, to go with the strawberries.  Damn, think the last time I cooked was with you.  Been too long.  Miss you all.  Fuck.  Gonna cry on my ‘pad again.  Shit.  Sorry Ma, I’ll try again tomorrow.  Sorry.

love you all.  Miss you.  Fucking hate birthdays.

Ella

* * *

> 11 April 2173

I almost wasn’t gonna mention my birthday this year. Not even to you. I mean, you already know about it, right?  And I got no one to send me presents no more, and the caf here never does specials.

Besides,  _everything_ hurts. Damn combatives. I am crap at combatives. Doing well enough at everything else don’t think I’ll get myself killed, but still. Barely passing.  Just wanted to go steal a bath while no one else was using the damn thing, try and get it extra hot.

But then I got a box.  

Opened it in the mail-room, ‘cause I didn’t know who or what, and it’s easier to just dump it there if it’s junk … almost started crying, right where everyone could see me.  

All ‘cause of chocolate bars and wool socks and a signed note,  _congratulations, birthday girl._

Such a mom sort of thing to send isn’t it? You mighta made me brownies, rather than store-bought, but you woulda sent me socks and chocolate too.

I never gave Matthews enough credit, when she was makin’ sure I survived long enough to enlist, now did I? How many brats have passed through the House, and she remembered to send me a present.

Me.

Despite all the crap I gave her.

Should send her a thank you, huh?

yeah.

Prove you didn’t raise no ungrateful bitch of a kid.

Prove she didn’t, either.

You would’ve liked her.

I like her.

Not sure when that happened.

Still.

Nice to know someone cares.   Happy birthday, and all that shit.

* * *

> 11 April 2174

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEEE.

Just got officially accepted into the Vanguard division for my last two. Fuck yeah.  Knew I could do it, didn’t you?

Thanks, Mama.

Love you

* * *

> 11 April 2175

Fuck, I was an idiot, thinking  _plebe year_  hurt. Ain’t got nothing on the current load.  But hell, at least I got good company. And beer.  And think I’m gonna get laid for my birthday?

Decent present that.

Well.  Hopefully better than decent?  Usually try not to fuck around at school, but she’s different.

I hope.

Definitely better bet than ‘Rik though. Damn, he was a terrible excuse for a human being, much less a boyfriend. What the fuck was wrong with me?  

So much.

Still a crap ton wrong with me, but I fake it better?

I can see you rolling your eyes at me, sorry.  Promise I’m doing the work. But nothing wrong with some friends though.  Nice, even.  

Thanks for putting up with me.  Love you

Ella

* * *

> 11 April 2176

Dearest Mama,

Last birthday as a cadet.

Almost there.  Almost made it.

Proud of me?

Been over six years since … sometimes I can’t remember what Robert’s voice sounded like, or how tall Papa was, or I wonder… what if I’ve forgotten your nose? What if I just think I remember it, cause I want to think I got mine from you?

What if I die somewhere, on duty or not, anything can happen, even to survivors, and I find you after, and I don’t recognize you?

You’ll know me though, won’t you?  No matter how much I change? No matter the uniform they give me after graduation?

I’m not … I’m not that girl from Mindoir anymore, Mama.  I’m not sure who I’m going to be, but I promise, I’m going to be someone you can be proud of.

All of you can be proud of.

And I’ll stop as many of those damn pirates as I can.  The universe doesn’t need more of me.  They could damn well use more people like you and Papa and Robert though.  Promise.  I’ll keep them safe.  As best I can.

Love you

Have some chocolate for me over there, alright? 

* * *

> 11 April 2177

Prepping for a ground mission coming up. Not much time for the regular b-day note, Mama.  Wish me luck, huh?  Love you.

* * *

> 11 April 2178

Happy birthday to me, stuck in medbay, I’m a 24 year old marine, with a fucking broken hip.  (Well, the top of my femur, technically, but it feels like my hip, and I can’t walk, so yay.)  And just to make sick-leave more fun, my CO got me the newest, coolest, shiniest ‘tool on the market for a b-day present!

Fucking asshole.

The Major’s determined to break through this tech phobia thing I’ve got going on.  (His words, not mine.  I think my dislike of tech is perfectly reasonable, as it never does what I want it to.)  He’s especially proud of this maneuver, as I’m stuck in a bed and can’t run away from him and his evil plan.  Damn infiltrators and their toys.  (He also managed to sneak me actual strawberries.  Canned ones, obviously, but still.  Fucking amazing.  I have no damn clue where he got them, or how he kept them away from the rest of the crew, but the man deserves a medal.  Well. already got most of the medals.  Still.  Sometimes, infiltrators and their stealthy ways?  Fucking awesome.  Gotta love him. Even when he’s ragging me about my damn potential.)

On the upside?  Uninterrupted opportunity to flirt with the new medic.

 _Caprone_. 

Smooth.  Italian.  As yummy looking as gelato tastes, with just a hint of an accent.  Apparently his family was almost as old school as ours, and taught him Italian before Standard.  He’s a delicious flirt too, so … great way to pass the time when the Major’s not harrassing me. 

No worries, it’s a small ship, we won’t go too crazy.  Promise. But next shore leave?  So dragging Caprone out with me.  Great big sweet-heart, and a damn fine ass.  Which is apparently all I need in a guy, ‘cause it’s been too long to be pickier than that.  I’m such a hussy.  (Kidding Mama, no worries.  Caprone’s an awesome catch, if I could be so lucky.  I’d actually take him home to meet you, if you were still around and things actually worked out.  You’d like him, promise.)  Not that anything’s gonna happen now, on ship, even if I didn’t have a broken hip.  Can’t believe I missed a damn batarian booby trap.  Just lucky I had my barrier up, or I probably would’ve lost a leg. 

But you, Mama, do not like hearing the combat tales.  Don’t worry, the Major and our marines take good care of me.  And Chief Li’d drag me out of my coffin if I was dumb enough to get myself killed, after all. 

Love you

Ella

* * *

> 11 April 2179

Well.

It’s a birthday again.

They seem to keep happening. Doesn’t matter what I do, who else stops having them, mine keep on coming, one after another after another.

I try so  _hard,_ Mama, and it never quite

It’s not enough, is it?

Never enough.

Think I’m just going to ignore them, for awhile. Maybe ‘til they don’t hurt quite so much.

Some things are worse than funerals. Wish I didn’t know that.  Especially not today of all days.

I’m  _sorry,_ and I don’t know where the line was, which step, there isn’t one I could undo, even if I could go back, and it’s just …

fuck

I need better swear words

* * *

> 12 April 2183

shhhhvmem mamama, i hsven’t gon2bed yet,that meansit’s still myybithday right?

god i love you mama,sorry,i’mstillkindareally drunk,had a breeat night,dancing, ~~fuckinththebartnederandherborfind~~  shit shouldn’t tellyou that sorry but she was really fucking pretty, all tall and curvy and a really soft blue and she thought celebrting 29 years was hystric, hysterrr, really funny, and she had such a nice laugh and her guy had the best hips for wrpping legs around I mean

sorry Mama

but it was really good sex?

_really good sex_

_'m_ a terrible daughter

BUT I’M A FUCKIN GREAT MARINE, and my new orders are so classified they don’t even tell my name 9imean the shipname I know my name y’gaveit to me it’s kindamouthful why’d y’do that ma?

bet it was Papa’s fault

elllleaaaanoooorrraaaa

totally his idea fuckin girly name

but i got a hint from personnel, ‘cuxLopez thinks imhot, n’Imm reportin tCAPTAIN ANDERSON yeah that fucking Anderson so it’s gotta be good

hell yeah it’s gonna be great

fuck

need to get some water forI pass out Mama,don’t wanna wake up too sick

love ya

don’t tell Papa and Robert ‘bout the sex, they wouldn’t ‘preciate it

fucking asari and her boy tho, goddamn, totally wroth the hangover

* * *

> 11 April 2185

_Oh,_  Mama

I’m supposed to be dead, and the thing I’m having the hardest time with is wondering how the fuck Miranda got all my old personal files.

I’m carefully not thinking about the fact that she probably read them all.

Even this one.

This is all supposed to be for you Mama, for me.  Not …

Fuck.

It was so cold, Mama.

And you weren’t there, you were supposed to be there, I was supposed to finally get to rest, and I woke up even more tired than I’d been before, and I can’t remember…

I don’t think I can do this again.

I don’t think I’m supposed to be here to  _try._

But I don’t know how to stop.

I can’t stop, no one else is doing what needs to be…

Mama, I need help, and there’s no one left to ask.  Either they’re dead, or I am, and I don’t… I can’t… 

Fuck it all.  I don’t even know how old I am, anymore.  I never had a thirtieth.

I was going to drag Joker out for a drink when we got back from our geth patrol.  Make him get out of his chair, off the ship, just for a night.  Be friends, for a little while, rather than officers.

god fucking damn it.

I don’t want to be his friend anymore, Mama.  But I can’t…

I feel so  _hollow,_  like something important is still out there in space somewhere, frozen in orbit around Alchera.  Everything hurts, and I can’t sleep, and I can barely eat, and that’s going to come bite me in the ass any day now, a damn starving biotic wandering around the galaxy, and I can’t seem to  _care._

I can’t seem to do anything, except look for more things to kill.

I’m tired of killing.

I wish there was something else I knew how to do.

I wish there was something else that needed doing.

Happy fucking birthday, right?

* * *

> 11 April 2186

And yet again, no cake for me. 

I am terrible at this birthday thing, Mama.

At least I’m alive for this one?

Sorry, no matter how often I try, that is never going to be funny.

I’m not sure I’ll be alive for the next one though, not if no one starts listening.  Sometimes I wonder if I killed all those civilians for nothing. Poor bastards.

What did the past two and a half months get me? The Council’s still twiddling their thumbs in denial, the Alliance is still apologizing for it’s crazy-ass either-a-zombie-or-a-traitor batarian butcher, and we’re no more prepared for the Reapers than we were back when Sovereign showed up three years ago.

Fuck everything.

Even Joker hasn’t managed to slip a message in to me, and I know he’s damn good at the sneaking ‘round the edges.

Damn I miss him.

He’d poke at me ‘til I stopped feeling sorry for myself, that’s for damn sure.  Or, you know, he’d just distract me a lot with the other sort of poking.

Ha.

That was terrible, I’m sorry.

Sorry for a lot of things, not just my total lack of propriety.

I think we’re all gonna die this time, Mama.  I’m sorry.  I tried.

And I’m not giving up, not really, not yet.  It’s just.  Have to be prepared for the worst, now don’t I?

Maybe you’ll be there to meet me, this time?

I miss you so.  Give Papa and Robert hugs for me, will you?  

Hopefully it’ll be at least a little longer ‘til I can do it myself.  And if not, hell, if everyone dies, I can finally introduce you to Joker properly, right?

Bet he gets all flustered, trying to be nice to the parents.  You’ll smack him out of that right quick, won’t you?  You never had that much propriety either.  

Where I got it from.  Got a lot from you.  Thank you.

Love you, always

Ella

**Author's Note:**

> [PODFIC](https://soundcloud.com/user-532567583/happy-fucking-birthday?utm_source=soundcloud&utm_campaign=share&utm_medium=tumblr) by [codenamecynic](http://codenamecynic.tumblr.com) (who has not posted it on [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/codenamecynic) for the handy linking BUT. It is so amazing. Thank you. <3)


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